


Maybe I Won't Die Alone

by shireness



Series: Rock Star!Emma AU - Maybe I Won't Die Alone [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Bartender!Killian, Belle/literally anyone else 2k17, F/M, Musician!Emma, Rock Star AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 10:40:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12703317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shireness/pseuds/shireness
Summary: Emma just comes in for a drink, but ends up creating the foundation for something much better.





	Maybe I Won't Die Alone

Consciously, Emma Swan knows she’s only known Killian Jones for the past four years, but some days, she struggles to remember what London was like, what she did with herself, before he established a presence in her life.

It’s not particularly surprising that she meets him at a bar (his bar, she comes to learn later). No matter how good or bad a show goes, Emma always finds herself exhausted by the end, yet still too hyped to sleep, which inevitably leads to drinking. Unfortunately, she discovered the night before that this particular hotel the Lost Girls had been put up in, while wonderfully accommodating and comfortable in all other respects, stocked their bar with alcohol of a deceptively bad quality (and the scrimping orphan in Emma simply can’t justify paying the obscene prices for something that terrible). Going to the hotel lobby bar might be an option for anyone else, but Emma avoids them on principle. Belle might be their frontman, and is certainly glamourous enough to pull most of the attention directed towards the band, but Emma still attracts a decent amount of attention as the group’s songwriter, and has learned that hanging out in heavy-traffic areas when she’s tired is asking for trouble. So when Robin, the lead singer of their opening act, Band of Thieves, recommends a bar a short tube ride from the hotel (“It’s a bit of a hole in the wall, but cozy,” he’d promised. “Gets the job done. Good onion rings!”), she can’t help but jump at it.

Sure enough, the Jolly Roger is a little off the beaten track, but Emma is immediately sold. It’s not hopping on a Thursday night, but not dead – mostly relaxed businessmen, and a collection of rowdy University students in a corner (thankfully, the type who look like they’re probably more into rap than angry femme rock). There’s a small stage and sound board in a corner, and the bar looks well stocked.

So, needless to say, she’s a little surprised to ask the bartender for a whiskey coke, only to receive a very firm no.

“Excuse me?”

“No. Can’t do it.”

Emma hates to pull the “do you know who I am?” card like, _ever_ , but it’s been a long day, and she needs a drink, dammit. She’s seconds away from pulling all sorts of lines she’s sure she’ll regret later (namely, when they land her in a tabloid), when he jumps back in.

“Don’t get me wrong, lass, I’d love to, but here’s the situation. Those idiots in the corner” – he waves towards the college students – “are apparently celebrating a birthday in grand, drunken style, and just bought the last bottle of the cheap stuff I keep under the counter. I’ve got more in the back, so normally not a problem, but the other bartender just went on break, and won’t be back for ten minutes – probably more like fifteen to twenty, since I saw her duck out the back door with one of them,” he says, hooking a thumb towards the same corner. “Now, I’ve got a bottle of the good top-shelf stuff right here, but I cannot in good conscience let you dilute it with soda. So, you can wait fifteen minutes for your original order, and I’ll toss in a basket of onion rings for your trouble, or you can take the good stuff neat. What’ll it be?”

She takes the whiskey neat. And a basket of onion rings for good measure.

(She’s not too proud to admit that it was a good call.)

\------

Emma usually likes to drink alone, unwind from the show, but she finds herself continuing her conversation with this strange, blunt bartender.

(And no, it has nothing to do with the fact that he’s hot as hell. At least not yet.)

His name is Killian Jones, and apparently Robin was somewhat misleading in calling the Jolly Roger “a little place he goes to sometimes”. They play here at least once a month. Jones, as it turns out, was an original member of Band of Thieves before finding himself injured in a car accident, and his brother is still their manager.

(“Awful lot of nerve damage in my left hand. They saved the blasted thing, but makes playing guitar a bit tricky and painful. Ergo, opening a bar. You need considerably less range of motion to pour beer.”)

Apparently the bar is his way of still being involved with music – facilitating instead of playing.

Emma reluctantly leaves at last call, finally relaxed enough to sleep, and feeling like against all odds, she’s made a friend.

\------

Killian Jones isn’t stupid – he recognizes Emma Swan the moment she steps into his bar. Even beyond trying to know everything he can about the groups Band of Thieves plays with, big or small, he’s a personal fan of the Lost Girls. But he also knows how to recognize someone who doesn’t want attention, and Swan, in her knitted sweater and beanie – so different from the sheer tanks and leather she wears onstage – has the classic look of someone who’s trying to fly under the radar. Honestly, he can’t blame her – he knows through the guys that there was a show tonight, he’d just want to unwind with a drink as well.

However, the question remains: why is she _here_.

As it turns out, that answer is quite simple: Robin. Killian only hopes his best friend didn’t suggest that he’s got a crush on her.

(He doesn’t, for the record. He likes the band. He admires her and her writing. It’s not the same thing.)

(Then again, when has that ever stopped Robin ‘The Meddler’ Loxley?)

He nearly has a panic attack when Miss Swan asks for literally the one thing he can’t currently provide – admiration can only take her so far, he’s not willing to compromise one of his few principles as a bartender – but to his relief, she easily acquiesces to his suggestion without accusing him of simply trying to make more money.

(And no, it doesn’t affect his admiration at all that she’s able to recognize good whiskey when it’s placed in front of her. Not at all.)

When she leaves at last call, Killian isn’t quite sure what to think about the night he’s just had. All he knows is that Emma Swan is just as enchanting in person as she is in interviews, sarcastic and witty, and he can only hope he wasn’t so annoying as to scare her off.

\------

To his enormous relief, she’s back a little under two months later – apparently in town to sort things out with her manager. This time, she skips straight to ordering his good whiskey, and proceeds to spend the rest of the evening chatting with him between patrons: about music, about pretentious cocktails, about pet peeves, about everything under the sun. That night when she leaves, though earlier than her previous visit, he’s much more confident that he’ll see her again.

\------

Emma knows she’s somehow now made a habit of dropping by the Jolly Roger whenever she’s in London. What she’s less clear on is how those visits become closer and closer together.

Sure, the Lost Girls’ manager, Regina, has relocated to the city to settle her mother’s estate. But they’re between albums and tours right now – promotional stuff has dropped off, and though she keeps in daily contact, the need for face-to-face interaction isn’t really there.

And sure, Belle is now in London more often, but that’s because she’s started dating the drummer of Band of Thieves. Emma isn’t quite sure what Belle sees in Will Scarlet – she personally thinks the man is a bit too high energy and goofy, though undeniably smitten with her glamourous band-mate – but that’s not really her business. And, again, it’s not a reason for Emma to be in town.

But she’s back again – her eighth time since her initial visit a little over a year ago – and can’t figure out for the life of her the excuse why.

He’s always happy to see her, always has a new bottle on hand for her to try (“I swear, Swan, if you don’t think this bourbon is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever had, I’ll sell the Jolly and give up this bartending lark.”), and always is willing to spend his evening chatting between customers.

She still can’t quite figure out what she’s doing here, but she’s fine not to question it.

(It’s only as she’s sitting at the bar at three in the afternoon, frantically scribbling out lyrics in a burst of inspiration, that she realizes – the bar feels safe, and warm, and comfortable. It feels like home.)

(As for what that says about her, finding a home in a damn bar, well, that’s up for debate.)

\------

Nearly two years into their… patronage? Acquaintanceship? Friendship? Whatever – Killian is pleased to notice that Emma has become an established presence at his bar. From a business side, that’s certainly a good thing – nothing like consistent celebrity sightings to encourage business – but from a personal side, it’s even better. He likes Emma Swan. He may even _like_ like Emma Swan, to phrase it like a pre-teen, but mostly, he just enjoys her presence. She’s smart and easy to talk to and has a droll sense of humor that makes him snort more than he ever should in public. She’s sliding onto one of his stools every month or two, and he _likes_ it.

And with Emma comes the rest of the Lost Girls. Belle is there most often, tagging along with Emma or coming to watch Will play. He’s shocked to find a fast friend in the woman. He’s not sure what he expected, but she’s a quick wit with an easy laugh and an inexhaustible knowledge of books and literature. Even Emma, who met Belle through their shared English major, simply sits back and bemusedly watches as the two debate classic literature. (“Listen, there is nothing you can say to me that will sway me from thinking that Nick totally had a thing for Gatsby,” Belle argues one night. “It’s so obvious we might as well call it canon.”). Ruby drops by too, every so often, happy to flirt with everyone in the place – including himself, and sometimes Emma. Mulan is in less often, preferring to spend any breaks back in Kansas with her sound technician girlfriend. One memorable night, all four come in, and end up getting trashed on a dare from Ruby – a night that ends with him escorting three very drunk Lost Girls up to his apartment above the bar. Emma and Ruby take his bed, Mulan takes the pull-out couch, and he manages to find an old air mattress in his hall closet. (Belle, the wisest of them all, gets a ride from Will back to his place and a proper bed. Lucky lass.) The four women are their own little unit, and he’s so pleased to get to see inside that.

He even meets Emma’s family, which is more nerve-wracking than it probably should be.

“It won’t be, like, a crowd of Emmas, you know,” she tries to tell him. “The Nolans adopted me at 15.”

“That’s fine, Swan. They’re still your folks, aren’t they?”

Her brother, David, seems a little mistrustful of any suspiciously consistent male figure in Emma’s life, but her mother, Ruth, and sister-in-law, Mary Margaret, are truly lovely, if somewhat over-enthusiastic and seemingly dead set on embarrassing their darling relative.

“Oh, you must be Emma’s young man!” Ruth chirps at the same time as Mary Margaret exclaims “We’ve heard so much about you!”

The ensuing shade of red on Emma’s face is truly unprecedented, and he can’t help but laugh as she crashes her head down on his counter.

All teasing aside, the Nolans have a great time on their sojourn to London, and he’s honored to have met her loved ones.

Killian’s not sure how, but he’s carved out a small, undefined corner in her life. He’ll take that.

\------

A new phase in her presence at his bar begins on karaoke night. It’s one of his regular rotation events – Amateur Night once a month, trivia every Wednesday, Karaoke night twice, and he usually is able to attract a decent crowd. Emma’s never made it to one before, though, and he’s looking forward to the chance to make fun of song choices with her. But, inevitably, someone flakes. Usually, this just means an awkward pause while he wrestles with the machine to skip the pre-programmed, now useless selection. However tonight, Emma hops up on stage instead. Maybe she’s had too much to drink, maybe it’s the atmosphere, maybe she’s just in a good mood and wants to take a turn, but she pops up on stage and sings a not half bad rendition of Billy Joel. “Uptown Girl”. Hey, at least the flaker had good taste.

Inevitably, someone in the bar takes a video, and inevitably, that ends up on the internet, and somehow, she’s an up front and center sensation. It’s not like she’s unknown – she’s a rock star, for fuck’s sake – but she’s always been able to slip under the radar somewhat, willingly ceding attention to Belle and Ruby. But now? She’s viral. And even had fun doing it.

So she comes back next month for karaoke night. And the month after that. Until there’s a permanent jar sitting on his bartop labelled “Swan Songs” for customer song requests.

Her selection is somewhat eclectic. Emma’s selections range from classic Supremes songs and other oldies to 80’s rock, modern pop and rock songs (“Listen, Killian, the reason I’m not in charge of the Lost Girls is I’d turn us into a Killers cover band, if allowed.”) and one particularly memorable night when she breaks out a Dixie Chicks song (“They are a trio of badass women and if you don’t think that is in line with what I do, then I’m not sure we can be friends.”). Killian’s personal favorite is the night she goes for Frank Turner, “I Still Believe”. Even if her American fans don’t quite get it when it’s posted to YouTube, she brings down the house that night at the Jolly Roger. What’s a better choice than a song about rock n’ roll?

It’s a new tradition for them – sitting at the bar or chatting over FaceTime, sorting through the multitude of suggestions and sorting out the more awful. It doesn’t hurt, of course, that her karaoke habit is great publicity for the band, and makes her own star rise a little higher. But he knows it’s more than that for Emma – she doesn’t do anything she doesn’t want to. So if she’s here, singing the favorites of yesteryear, it’s because she genuinely enjoys it.

(He’s turning into such an old sap, but that makes him all warm inside – knowing that she likes being at the bar, being around him, and hell, he’s in so far over his head, Robin was fucking right, he’s got a massive crush.)

\------

As they near the three-year mark, Emma ends up making the move to London. It’s time, really; Belle and Will have moved in together, and Regina permanently relocated after falling in love with Robin’s son (and later, Robin himself). Ruby’s always been more a “citizen of the world” anyways, traveling all over the planet during her time off and renting temporary places, and Mulan had begun to gravitate towards Kansas City and Dorothy on her own time more than towards Boston, technically their home base. It makes sense, really. Boston was alright, but never home; tinged by far too many memories of her time in the system to ever earn that title. The only thing to possibly keep her in the States is her family, and she sees them rarely enough as it is. The tiny hamlet of Storybrooke, Maine is certainly quaint, but easy to access it is not. London is the first place she’s been really excited about in ages, so she follows her gut and her heart and finds herself a decent apartment in a slightly quieter area, still close to the city. Plus, if there’s one bonus to being a so-called “rock-star”, it’s being able to afford plane tickets fairly easily.

Getting her moved into her new place turns into something of a party. Killian comes, of course, and brings his brother and sister-in-law, Belle arrives with Will in tow, and Robin with Regina, but her family is there too – Mary Margaret and David flying over to help her get settled. It’s a little ridiculous, really, because she didn’t ship most of the big stuff – her couch sold off, her piano now living in Mary Margaret’s living room. She only has a mattress because Killian thought to remind her of it the month before. There’s still things to move, but it’s more a matter of boxes instead of heavy furniture. But still, they unload her kitchenware and clothes, move in the small collection of end tables she had shipped over, and watch Will and Robin wrestle with her stereo and recording equipment for far longer than it ever should have taken.

Mostly, they’re just here for a party. Emma purchases a TV from the nearest electronics store, Killian runs down to the bar for booze, and Belle arranges for a disgusting amount of pizza to be delivered. At the end of the night, they’re all far drunker than it’s probably safe to be, and David is already passed out on her floor with a giggling Mary Margaret taking pictures. Still, it means a lot that she has so many people willing to drop everything to help with such a chore.

(And maybe it means even more that a slightly hungover Killian shows up the next morning at eleven to pick her up to go shopping for a couch.)

\------

It’s nice, having Emma in town on a permanent basis. He likes to think they were already close, but something about having the option to see her every day adds a new level to their relationship. When she drags him with her to pick out a new piano, he learns in the process about how her old piano, back in the States, was the first item she bought with the money from their signing deal; helping her organize her office means he finds a box full of piano ballads she wrote that she swears will never see the light of day; her increased presence at his bar means he learns about her secret love for fruity drinks in bizarre colors. It’s like there’s these little corners of her that he didn’t know existed, and she’s finally confident enough that he’s here in her life to stay to show him those little facets.

In some ways, his life with her in London is just the same. Emma is still a karaoke fixture at the Jolly Roger; still teases him mercilessly, ganging up with his brother against him; still joins him in trying to talk his waitress, Merida, out of some of her more questionable conquests (or, more often, talking her out of punching every rude dick that wanders through the bar).

Yes, so much is still the same, but he takes comfort in the new constancy. It’s different, in that way, and he likes it.

\------

Their first kiss is somewhat on accident.

Killian had always thought that if anything ever happened between him and Emma, it would be because he finally worked up the nerve to ask her out, and take her on a nice date, and everything else you’re supposed to do before you respectful and probably bashfully request the privilege of a kiss.

Instead, it’s a Thursday evening, and Killian’s left the bar in Smee and Mer’s hands in favor of spending the evening on the couch on Emma’s. Nothing particularly romantic even happens – they’re watching a documentary about superheroes, of all things, and she’s laughing at a joke he made about God knows what, and he just leans over and plants one on her.

Of course, the moment they separate, the world comes crashing back down on him. Jesus, what was he thinking? Moving in like that without even asking? And lord knows he’s been at least half in love with her for years, but right now he can’t honestly put enough brain cells together to remember if it seems like she reciprocates and he can feel his face turning red. He turns to her with a hand in his hair, apology on his tongue –

– and Emma grabs the back of his head, pulling him down for another, deeper kiss.

Huh.

When they finally break apart, he’s sure he’s got the stupidest grin on his face, and the only word he can come with is a breathless “Yeah?”

(Was it good? Did she like it? Would she be interested in trying that again?)

As always, she seems to just instinctually hear everything he can’t say. They understand each other, after all. So he gets a crazy grin in return, and her own “Yeah.”

Huh.

\------

Dating Killian just feels natural.

Which is weird, because she spent ages telling herself that it wouldn’t, convincing herself to never make a move.

But he takes her to terrible movies so that they can make fun of them together, and finds little up-and-coming bands for them to see, and even takes her to nice dinners they both feel slightly awkward at. And it’s comfortable. Good even.

She’s happy.

Mary Margaret is ecstatic to hear the news, the squeal probably audible from Maine without the aid of the telephone and carrying on about happy endings. Which on the one hand, whoa, hold your horses, but on the other… she’s becoming increasingly open to the idea. On the other side of the pond, Regina just rolls her eyes, but Belle gets excited about the potential for double dating, and Emma’s fairly sure she saw some exchange of money between Will and Robin.

Part of Emma wants to say it’s a little much, run for the hills like she always does, but then she feels Killian’s hand envelop her own, and that little part of her falls quiet.

Like she said, it’s nice. She’s happy.

And dare she say it? She could get used to this.

            ------

It comes as a little bit of a shock when Emma approaches him, and offers for the Lost Girls to play a surprise set at the Jolly Roger, especially since she has that twinkle in her eyes that says she’s up to something. But he’s a man in love – who is he to say no?

It’s great, being able to watch from behind his bar Emma perform her own stuff instead of everyone else’s for once. The patrons are loving it, and all four women seem right at home on the tiny stage. He knows he’s going to lose her for a few months again soon – the band just released their latest album, to widespread acclaim, and touring will be starting shortly  – so he chooses to savor this night, imprint every moment in his mind.

Emma has been off to the side of the stage for most of the night, letting Belle and Ruby pull most of the attention, but now she steps forward with her guitar and a quick grin. “Hey guys, having a good time tonight?’ she calls to the crowd, predictably receiving a chorus of cheers. “Good, good… So, some of you might know that I’m the songwriter around here.”

Another round of cheers. Emma ducks her head, seemingly adjusting her tuning, which he takes as a sure sign that she’s nervous about something. Which is odd. Emma Swan is the queen of a “don’t give a fuck” stage presence.

“…which tends to be why our songs tend a little towards the angry side. I went through a metric shit ton of stuff before we hit it big, little of it good.”

“That’s about two fifths of a regular American shit ton, by the way,” Belle pipes in, to a few polite chuckles.

“Think the math joke fell a bit flat, you nerd. Anyways, I am well aware that my stuff gets a little angry and angsty. Ruby’s original suggestion for our first album’s name was actually “Fuck You I’ve Won the Break-up.” She pauses to let the crowd laugh. “But… I’ve started seeing someone in the past few months.” Emma takes a moment to smile. “And it’s going pretty well. So I thought I ought to try and write a love song.” She laughs to herself – and he has to admit, he’s looking forward to finding out why. “Apparently, this is as close as I get. If this makes the album, we’ll probably put Belle back on vocals – “

“It’s that or tambourine!” Belle calls with a grin.

 “ – but the other ladies thought that since I wrote this with a particular person in mind, I should be the one to sing it for the first time. So… yeah.” She turns back to the rest of the band. “Ready?”

With a collection of nods, and without further ado, Emma counts them in.

As she starts in, he can’t help but think it’s a little unusual for a love song, what with the heavy electric guitar line and strong drum beat contrasting with the three harmonizing voices. The lyrics are nice, but he senses that this stanza isn’t what Emma is leading up to. If he knows anything about how that woman writes a song, there’s a handful of crucial lines, and the rest is little more than rhyming filler that makes a bit of sense with the rest. Sure enough, she searches his eye out at the back bar in time to croon a line about not being a fool and holding back her feelings. Then they’re building to the chorus and –

“ _I, never thought, I could love, anyone but myself…_

_Now I know, I can’t love, anyone, but you…_ ”

She shoots a grin his way in between notes, and he can’t help but feel like she has something up her sleeve. The words are beautiful, and he’s touched, but he recognizes that twinkle in her eye, and it usually means she’s up to something. And sure enough –

“ _You make me think that maybe I won’t die alone,_

_Maybe I won’t die alone_.”

And then she winks. As the crowd laughs and cheers, and even aws in a few cases, she has the gall to wink at him. Minx.

But damn if he doesn’t love it.

Because really, isn’t that absolutely Emma? She isn’t rainbows and unicorns, “love at first sight” and “the world lit up when I met you”. She’s walls and sarcasm and wanting to seem tough and not rubbing her feelings in everyone’s faces. Of course an Emma Swan love song is less “You are my forever” and more “Maybe I won’t die alone”. So he chuckles and winks right back with a happy grin on his face next time she looks his way.

After the set is over and their equipment is put away, she makes her way over behind the bar, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her chin on his shoulder. “So…” she starts, “what did you think?” And he can tell, that though his mid-song wink reassured her in the moment, the nerves are back.

“I think…” he pauses, turns around to hold her in his arms more fully. There’s so much he could say, should say, but right now is a matter of picking the perfect words. “I think… that I love you. And I’m touched. It was perfect, love.”

Emma smiles, just one of her million smiles that he’s grown to love. “Yeah?”

Killian smiles right back and nods. “Yeah.”

It may have taken them four years to get here, from a single drink in an unknown bar to two people in love, but they’re here, and they’re happy. Every single second has been more than worth it.

So he kisses her one more time as they separate to serve the crowd of customers, ready to begin the rest of a life together.

**Author's Note:**

> The lyrics are taken from "Die Alone", by Ingrid Michaelson, so I obviously don't own them. Good song, though!
> 
> Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it, let me know what you thought.


End file.
